Artemis Fowl: The Frond Legacy
by RaptorK
Summary: Artemis tracks down the 'enemy' who inserted the contacts from EC, Holly finds a hidden secret about the first elven king. FIRST ONE REVIEW PLEASE!
1. Investagations

Artemis Fowl: The Frond Prophecy  
A fanfiction story by Thomas Golden  
  
Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN Artemis Fowl, Butler, etc, etc. PLEASE do not sue me.  
  
Prologue  
  
Artemis Fowl's diary, disk 1 (encrypted)  
  
I have decided to keep a diary. In fact, I am surprised that the idea has never occurred to me before. An intellect such as mine should be documented, so that future generations of Fowls can take advantage of my brilliant ideas.  
Of course, I must be careful with such a document. As valuable as it would be to my descendants, it would be more valuable to the law enforcement agents who are forever trying to gather evidence against me.  
It is even more important that I keep this journal a secret from my father. He is not himself since his escape from Russia. He has become obsessed with nobility and heroism. Abstract concepts at best. As far as I know, nobility and heroism are not accepted by any of the world's major banks. The family's fortune is in my hands, and I will preserve it in the way I always have, through ingenious plots. Most of these plots will be illegal. The best always are. Real profit lies in the shadowy areas beyond the law. But these projects must be suspended temporarily, for today I discovered that I am the victim of a conspiracy.  
The day began strangely. When I awoke, I experienced an instant of weakness. For a single moment before I opened my eyes I felt content, my drive to accumulate wealth forgotten. This has never happened before. Perhaps the mood was left over from some magical dream, or perhaps my father's newfound mood is contagious. Whatever the cause, I must be careful to avoid such lapses in the future. With my father in his current frame of mind, this is no time to lose my resolve. I must remain as driven as ever. Crime is the way forward for the Fowls. Aurum Est Potestas.  
Minutes later, a greater mystery presented itself. As I washed my face at the basin, two tiny objects fell from my eyes. Close examination in the lab revealed them to be semi-corroded tinted contact lenses. Not only that, but a mirrored layer had been added behind the tinted lens. Ingenious. Undoubtedly the work of a master craftsman. But to what purpose? It is strange, but even though I have no knowledge of these lenses or where they came from, I feel the answer is in my brain. Hidden in the shadows.  
Imagine my surprise when Juliet and Butler discovered mirrored lenses in their own eyes. The lenses are so clever they could have been my own invention, so obviously this unknown adversary must not be underestimated.  
I will track the culprit down, make no mistake. No clue will be left uninvestigated. Butler has a contact in Limerick. An expert in lenses and scopes. He may recognize our intruder's handiwork. Butler is on his way there as I write.  
  
Chapter One  
  
Fowl Manor  
  
The diminutive figure moved closer. Artemis shook as it approached. The stature, build—they seemed familiar. But he could not place a name to them. More figures approaches, but like the first, their faces were cloaked in darkness. They surrounded him. He could feel no hostile intent, but the murky surroundings of the area terrified him. One of them approached, and slowly began to lift the veil covering its face, to reveal— "Artemis! Arty, wake up!" Artemis perceived that he was being smacked across the face. "Snap out of it, Arty!" "Huh?" he said blearily. Immediately he berated himself. Huh wasn't a real word. For some reason, the thought nagged at him. He couldn't help thinking he'd had it before.  
"What's wrong, Arty?" It was his father. His father, who had moved into his room, so he could be closer to his only child.  
"I—I had a strange dream," he said. Even as he spoke, the fragments of the dream began to slip away. "Why? What happened?"  
"You were screaming to shake the Earth, Artemis," his father replied. "Gibberish. Nonsense words. Are you sure you're all right?"  
Artemis had recovered now. "Yes, I'm fine. I can't get back to bed now, so I guess I'll read for a bit." Before his father returned to bed, he asked one final question.  
"Oh, uh, Arty?"  
"Yes?"  
"Who is—Holly? Do you have a girlfriend?"  
His father grinned at the gibe, but Artemis' heart was racing. For some reason the name had struck a chord with him. "No one, Father. Just—just a dream."  
His father, satisfied, retreated to the comfort of his bed. "All right. Just remember, Arty, if you're in trouble, I'm here to help. After all, we're family."  
Soon his father's breathing returned to the easy motions of sleep. Artemis, however, was reading. He had usually preferred classics such as Shakespeare and others, but now he found himself drawn to Tolkien's Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit. The elves in particular intrigued him, though he could not see why. Lately the magical word had seemed to intrigue him more and more.  
He was almost through The Return of the King when he heard the Bentley pull up into the long drive towards the house. Artemis' heart began to pound. Butler had returned from his trip to Limerick. Perhaps he had found a crucial piece of evidence to discover who had placed the specialized contact lenses in their eyes. Artemis glanced at the clock as he descended to the main hallway. 4:00 in the morning. He'd have to prepare some breakfast. Not that cooking was his forte, far from it. But lately he'd been improving. He threw some pancake batter on the griddle and dropped in some chocolate chips as he had seen others do. The end result, however, was not as delectable. Artemis sighed, and scraped the victims onto a set of plates. He then went to the door to greet Butler. 


	2. Results

Chapter Two  
  
It was a windy night. Butler was certainly glad to see Artemis had turned the heat on in the dining room. And the...food...was good as well, although it looked like an explosion in a batter factory. After eating three of the...attempted pancakes...he started to fill Artemis in.  
"I talked to my contact, Artemis."  
Artemis looked over at his trusted servant and friend. "What did you find?"  
Butler swallowed. What he had found was inexplicable, and Master Artemis did not like the inexplicable. "Well," he began, "my friend was very surprised to see me again so soon, according to him, and asked if the lenses were satisfactory or not. When I asked him what he meant, he told me that...that I had ordered the lenses. Exact specifications, too. He had diagrams, and they looked like your handwriting."  
Artemis was speechless. This had never happened before...hadn't it? He seemed to think there had been another time, not long ago...  
"What else did he say?" he asked, when he had sufficiently recovered.  
Butler passed the receipt to Artemis. "I've already checked, the amount on here was deducted on that date. That's why I got back so late. I had an audit conducted. There were other purchases, dating back months. Again, all signed and checked out."  
Artemis sat back and rubbed his eyes. "How can this happen? Someone must have hacked into the account—"  
"The contact recognized me the first time, Artemis. The cameras confirm that I left, I just don't remember it."  
Artemis was stunned. After all, how could a boy genius expect to win against...himself? 


	3. Reminisces

Chapter Three  
  
Haven City, the Lower Elements  
  
Holly sneakily checked her lunascope. Three minutes to go. Then her shift would be over, and it would mean she could return to her apartment. Below, the tones of a pixie orchestra played on. Next to her, Foaly yawned openly.  
"I don't know why they bother with this anymore," she remarked to him. "It doesn't mean anything anymore."  
Foaly chuckled. "Don't let Julius hear you say that. You'll never get a raise again."  
Holly groaned. "Is it my fault Frond liked concerts? Why do we have to have these?"  
"It's a tradition," Foaly said. "If the Council keeps supporting it like it has in the past, it'll live longer than a dwarf. Besides, we have to come to pay tribute to whatever lucky commander wins the right to conduct it."  
"Wonderful," she retorted. "So since good ol' Beetroot shows some musical aptitude, I get to sit here and be bored to death. Being kidnapped was more exciting than this." She checked the wall mounted lunascope. Just a minute more. Then she could escape to the privacy of her home, maybe even take a long, luxurious bath. With her schedule, it was harder and harder to find time to herself.  
The orchestra came to its final crescendo. Root held the baton, summoning all of the power he could from the band. Finally, it was over. The Council members stood up for a standing ovation, although Holly noted some glazed looks on some faces.  
As the crowd began to disperse, Holly and Foaly lingered to congratulate their commanding officer. He walked over to them, in a dark green suit instead of his usual uniform.  
"Congratulations, Commander!" Holly said. "I really enjoyed it."  
"Thank you, Holly. I know you're not an enormous fan of these concerts, but it means a lot to me. I'm glad you both showed up," he replied.  
"It was wonderful, boss," Foaly said. "I loved the...uh...loudness, and the, er...well, it was great."  
Root took Holly aside for a moment. "You know, Holly, you didn't have to stay the entire time. I was just glad you were there for the introduction."  
Holly shrugged. "I was happy to do it. It's no big deal."  
Root's eyes got strangely bleary. "You know, Holly, I feel guilty. Here I am, we wouldn't even be having this without him, and I pulled the plug on his memories."  
Holly began to feel odd, too. "It was what you had to do," she said. "What if he had leaked. It's...better this way." She turned away suddenly. "I've got to get going. You know, things to do, stuff to catch up on."  
"Goodbye, Holly," Root said. "Remember, it's not your fault. It just...wouldn't have worked."  
"I know," she replied, "but it doesn't make it any easier." 


	4. Contact

Chapter Four  
  
Fowl Manor  
  
"Are you positive?" Artemis asked.  
"Quite sure," Butler said. "Whatever files were stored on that ILM camera...we...purchased have been erased. I sent it to a friend at the NSA, in the States. He says someone detonated some kind of data charge. It destroyed the data and then any reference to the topics it destroyed. The only hope would be to get the physical data off of the camera."  
Artemis looked pensive. "Can we do that here, or does it have to be sent out?"  
"I already checked," Butler said. "There simply seems to be pictures of the path up to the house. Perhaps a frame-by-frame analysis—"  
"That is one thing we can't do on our own," Artemis agreed. "Perhaps your friend in the NSA can help us."  
"I'll set up a video conference with him as soon as I can," Butler replied. He patted Artemis on the shoulder. "Cheer up. Master Fowl. We'll get them."  
"You're right," he replied. "They'll wish that they never messed with Artemis Fowl the Second."  
  
A few hours later, the conference was on. Butler's friend looked somewhat flustered. "What's up, Butler?" he asked. "You look different. Did you do something with your hair?" Artemis wondered how exactly you were supposed to do something to a shaved head.  
"Just a little slower and older, Mack," Butler replied. "How are things in the States? You look like you could use a break."  
"I've been busy tracking down hackers," Mack replied. "This was supposed to be an easy desk job after Army service. Ha! I've had my hands full since I sat down."  
"Doing what?" Artemis asked.  
"Let me put it this way," Mack said. "Have you ever heard of Eric Champlain?"  
"Can't say I have," Artemis replied, looking puzzled. "Should I?"  
"This kid's been my life since I started here. My first day on the job, he hacked into my profile and made it so I was a 70 year old, obese, egotistical person with suicidal tendencies."  
Artemis was intrigued. "How did he get in? I—uh, my associates, have never gotten into NSA files."  
  
A/N: I am not making him refer to the fairies! He doesn't remember them yet!  
  
Mack shrugged. "Who knows? He's a typical kid, I guess you'd call him a preppie. He goes to some private school in Rhode Island. Never gone hungry a day in his life, lives fairly well, plans for college. Basically a typical American kid. So how the hell did he get into our files?"  
Artemis was intrigued. "Can I talk to him?"  
Mack smiled. "Let me put it this way, Artemis. If you can just tell me how he got in, I'll fly him up to you."  
"No need," he replied. "I can be where you are with the Lear jet. I'd like to have a talk with Master Champlain."  
  
Haven City, the Lower Elements  
  
Holly had finally made it through the crush at the thoroughfare back to her apartment. She sighed with relief as she entered the cool confines of her home. Now, her life was her own. No interruptions, jobs, assignments...  
She made her way over to her fridge and took out a tumbler of fresh spring water. As she did, she remembered another time...  
  
Artemis helped himself to a bottle of still water from the chiller cabinet.  
"This tastes unusual," he commented. "Not unpleasant, but different."  
"Clean is the word you're looking for," said Holly. "You wouldn't believe how many filters we have to put it through to purge the Mud Man from it."  
  
Ah, those were better days, she thought. After that incident in the Arctic, they had gone on a small outing to celebrate their success. A kind of picnic. Everyone had just unwound and had fun. She chuckled at the memory of Artemis diving to catch a Frisbee in his Armani suit, and Butler grilling hamburgers and hot dogs (vegetarian, of course—no meat for the LEP). She even had a picture that Foaly had taken of them. All of them were spread out on the blanket, laughing and having a good time.  
Holly sighed. Now, Artemis was gone, as good as dead to the fairy realm. She wondered why it had to be that way. 


	5. Travel

Chapter Five  
  
Somewhere over the Atlantic, off the East Coast  
  
"Master Fowl?"  
Artemis turned towards the cockpit. "Yes, Butler?"  
"We're approaching the East Coast now. You should probably buckle in now. It's a bit choppy."  
"Of course, Butler." Artemis hardly paid attention. He was busy thinking of ways that he could exploit this Champlain person. Supposedly he was a young person. How young, there was some doubt. Butler's contact said that they had tracked him down and put him in 'temporary detention,' but had not interrogated him yet. "Where is Master Champlain now, Butler?" "According to my friend, they returned him to school a week ago. It's in Rhode Island. We're going to land at Logan and go from there. I've already contacted a limo from the airport service." "Thank you, Butler," Artemis replied. The whole thing was a shadowy enigma. And the only enigmas Artemis was fond of were his own.  
  
Mount Saint Charles Academy, Rhode Island  
  
"Bull," Brendan said. "There's no way you hacked the NSA, Eric."  
Eric Champlain grinned. "Then where was I for the past week?"  
"We were on vacation," Brendan argued. "You could have been anywhere."  
"The fact is, I was sitting in a federal detention cell. They don't appreciate jokes over there." Eric retorted. He was about five ten, brown hair, brown eyes. His hair was everywhere, but that was how it looked all the time. Right now he was wearing the polo shirt that was part of the uniform at the academy. He and his friend, Brendan Quinn, were in the school's library area during one of their few free periods. "Anyway, I could do it again right now, except for the fact that I'm being monitored."  
"I have to agree with that," Brendan acquiesced. "You've got more men in black following you than the President."  
"Just one, and he'll leave soon. Where is he now, anyway?"  
"The last I saw, he was in Mr. Richer's office, trying to explain that sitting in the back of all your classes was a matter of national security."  
"Hardly," Eric breezed. "I just messed with the supervisor's profile a bit."  
Brendan pressed on. "Look, even if you did get in, there's no way you'd be able to change anything without a password."  
Eric grinned. "I had a password. It only took me three tries to find it."  
"Bull," Brendan said.  
  
Woonsocket streets  
  
The airport limo cruised smoothly down the streets of Woonsocket. It was an old, dreary town, with projects every three blocks. Gangs hung out on street corners, and homeless people around bars. Artemis Fowl the Second, however, was insulated from the realms of common people. Being so close to normal (and he applied the term loosely) people irritated him very much. However, it would be worth it if he could convince this hacker to help him. Money, he thought, money and privileges. Stock options, or perhaps something else. Everyone had their price, and Artemis had the means to meet it.  
When Artemis arrived at the school, however, he was surprised. "When you said school, Butler, I thought that you meant college. This is—it's only a high school," he said frostily.  
"I was somewhat unaware myself, Master Fowl," he replied. "I was thinking along the same lines as you."  
Artemis frowned. This was another unexpected variable. His plan to unmask whoever had put the lenses in was going to have to be adjusted. He wasn't worried. His brain hadn't failed him yet.  
  
Mount Saint Charles Academy  
  
As Butler parked the limo, Artemis made his way to the school. His Armani suit did not match the uniform employed there, however, and he received some odd stares. He proceeded directly to the main office, where a large man in a black suit was arguing with what seemed to be the principal. "I'm telling you, sir, the Champlain kid is a threat to national security," he was saying as Artemis entered. "I can't believe it," the principal said. He was a tall man with a mustache and a walkie-talkie clipped to his belt. "I've known Eric since he was in seventh grade, and there's no way he would have done something like this. I'll hear no more of this. Now leave, or I'll be forced to call the police." He turned to spot Artemis and frowned. "While I'm glad you're wearing a formal outfit, it's still against the dress code. That's a detention, Mr.—" "The name is Fowl, sir, and I do not attend school here," Artemis retorted. "In fact, I am here to track down the object of your conversation. One Eric Champlain, of Millville, Massachusetts?" "That's all well and good, Mr. Fowl, but I can't release a student to the company of another minor," Mr. Richer replied. Artemis sighed. "Listen, I was just talking to the director of one branch of the NSA. In order to help him find out how Champlain penetrated their security, I need to bring him with me. To Ireland." He grinned his vampire grin. "You can even talk to him yourself."  
  
Five minutes later, Artemis was walking up the stairs to the library, where Eric was at the moment. The sight of Butler had persuaded the principal that it was necessary to release Eric to the two of them. As Artemis approached, he could hear a terse conversation. Apparently this Eric person was talking to one of his friends. "Pardon me," Artemis said as he entered. "Is there an Eric Champlain here?"  
The conversation ended abruptly as he entered. Everyone busied themselves with something.  
"Well?" Artemis asked. "Is he?"  
Someone muttered in the background. Artemis' eyes zeroed in. One of the boys, his shirt defiantly untucked, was whispering into his cell phone. "Sell all my shares in Studio 1089," he said. "I just got a tip that there's about to be a drop."  
"You there," Artemis said. "Would you be Eric?"  
"That's the genius," the kid next to him said. "Here." He handed Eric a five. "You were right."  
Eric and Artemis left the room. As soon as they were in the hallway, Eric started talking.  
"So why did the NSA send another kid over?" he cracked. "Those the only sane people left?"  
Artemis ignored him. "We're taking a slight trip, Mr. Champlain."  
"Oh, yeah?" he said. "Where to?"  
"Ireland." 


	6. Flight of the Lollipop

Chapter Six  
  
Over the Atlantic  
  
It had taken some convincing, but Artemis had gotten Eric on the Lear jet. An offer of amnesty will do that to people. Eric was now enjoying (and again the term is used in the loosest possible sense) another of Artemis' food creations. This one called itself a BLT on rye, toasted. It looked like a charcoal briquette. He would have had Butler cook, but he was busy flying the jet.  
"So," Artemis opened the conversation, "how did you get inside the NSA?"  
Eric swallowed the remains of the sandwich. "Well, it was simple. All I needed was one password to access the superintendent's controls. I would have figured, a high security installation like that, would be two minimum. Instead, I only needed one."  
"But still," Artemis pressed. "There are literally millions of permutations. How did you get past it?"  
Eric looked around uneasily. This Fowl guy seemed innocent, but the jet might be bugged. "You sure that we're secure in here?" he asked.  
"If we aren't, then I'll be going down with you," Artemis reassured him.  
"All right," Eric said. "There are three possibilities. These apply for any system. Electronic, bank security, wall safe—doesn't matter. Security is the same everywhere. One, the mark never changes the setting from the factory default. This is most prevalent in actual safes, locks, et cetera. Two, they come up with a random alphanumerical string that they keep somewhere or memorize. This usually only happens in very large corporations and such, simply because it's so hard. Finally, there's people who set the code to some significant combination that relates to them. A birthday, their phone number, address—anything. So, all you need to do is research the mark, or get a good sequencer." Eric grinned. "I didn't need to shell out any money for a sequencer, let me tell you."  
Artemis was shocked. "I can hardly believe that it is that simple to hack a bastion of security in the United States."  
Eric shrugged. "I just do the breaking and entering. I never do anything harmful, though. Mess with a profile? Yeah. Hack nuclear launch codes? No." He reached into his khakis. "Lollipop?"  
"I don't—" Artemis began to say, then was struck by some sort of recollection.  
  
Artemis was propped up on his elbows. "You hit me," he said in disbelief.  
Holly strapped on a set of hummingbirds.  
"That's right, Fowl. And there's plenty more where that came from. So stay right where you are, if you know what's good for you."  
For once in his life, Artemis realized that he didn't have a snappy answer. He opened his mouth, waiting for his brain to supply the customary pithy comeback. But nothing arrived.  
Holly slipped the Neutrino 2000 into its holster.  
"That's right, Mud Boy. Playtime's over. Time for the professionals to take over. If you're a good boy, I'll buy you a lollipop when I come back."  
And when Holly was long gone, soaring beneath the hallway's ancient oak beams, Artemis said, "I don't like lollipops."  
  
"What the—How in the—Butler! Butler!" Artemis ran to the cockpit, desperately trying to remember what had obviously been kept from him. Someone was concealing his own memories from him, and he intended to find out whom.  
Eric watched as Artemis sprinted up the aisle in his leather loafers.  
"Oh, well," he said to no one in particular. "More for me." 


	7. Foaly on the Lam

Chapter Seven  
  
Haven City, the Lower Elements  
  
Holly was hurriedly pulling on her uniform. She hadn't realized quite how late it was. If Root didn't blow a blood vessel today, it would only be through divine intervention. She scrambled through the thoroughfare. Almost there, she thought. Almost, almost—  
But almost never won the 64 million-ingot prize, and Holly was spotted just before she made it to the office.  
"SHORT!" Root bellowed. "My office, IMMEDIATELY!"  
Holly sighed. Root would never let her forget this one. She scrambled to his office as fast as possible. "I'm sorry, Commander," she apologized. "I didn't realize how late it was, and the thoroughfare—"  
"It's not that, Holly," Root said cryptically. "We've got bigger problems than that. Foaly's missing."  
Holly was shocked. Never before had something so drastic befallen their loyal centaur. "Are you sure he's not just late, too?" she asked hopefully.  
Root's face was grim—or as grim as possible when your face has the color of an old tomato. "We've got a message from him. The transmission was interrupted, but Scopes got a lock on it. It was coming from Northern Ireland." Root saw the look on Holly's face. "I'm not accusing anyone, Holly, but those are the facts. You were probably right about Fowl's reversion." He glared furiously around the room. "Those imbeciles! When we get out of this mess, I'll have the Psych Brotherhood on the carpet, and they better pray that I only just fire them."  
"What did the message say, Commander?" Holly asked.  
Root sighed. "Foaly was talking about something that he had found in that piece I conducted yesterday connecting it to the Mud Men. He seemed to think there was some sort of code in it. Before he could finish, though, the transmission just cut off."  
"It's confusing, all right, Commander," Holly said. "But Artemis knows nothing about us anymore. How could he be behind it?"  
Root shook his head. "I don't know, Holly," he said. "I really don't know."  
  
Northern Ireland  
  
Holly was even more frustrated now than she had been before. After an hour of scouring the site where Foaly's transmission had occurred, all she could find were his own tracks leading away. But if Foaly had left on his own, why hadn't he finished the conversation? And where was his locator?  
"Short here," she said. "Foaly seems to have left on his own. There's no trace of him or his locator. If he wants to be found, we'll find him. Until then, we're stuck."  
  
So, where was Foaly? Was he languishing in some aboveground prison? Stuck in a goblin trap? Attacked by a troll? No, none of these. In fact, the great Foaly had fallen victim to—  
"Animal Control," he muttered. "I'm stuck in the back of an Animal Control van. Root will never let this one go." If Foaly had been a fairy instead of a centaur, he could have simply mesmerized the driver. However, centaurs had no magic. They couldn't shield, mesmerize, heal—nothing.  
The van came to a stop in front of a low, blocky building. Even without magic, Foaly could sense the fear rolling off of the real animals in the van. "Hoo boy," he said. "I'm screwed now." 


	8. In Which there is Much Hacking

Chapter Eight  
  
Fowl Manor  
  
Artemis was almost worried. Almost in the sense that actually admitting to being worried would be a devastating blow to his pride. Never in his carrier as a genius and criminal mastermind had he been this close to worrying. Needless to say, the strange outburst of memory had completely ruined the tone of the trip. His consultation with Butler had only unsettled him further, While he did not react violently to lollipops, as Artemis had, he was also certain that the name Holly meant or had previously meant something to him.  
Anyway, Eric was also determined not to ruin the delicate balance that sanity had over Artemis. An insane patron would certainly get his amnesty revoked in a hurry. If Artemis reacted badly when offered a lollipop, who was he to say anything, he reasoned. He sat quietly during the car trip back to the manor.  
Now that they had arrived, however, he had plans of his own to put into operation. He had no idea that these plans would destabilize the entire Irish nation, anger thousands of fairies, and present him with countless near-death experiences. If he had, he probably would have made his way back to the US and asked to be locked up as fast as possible, just to avoid that.  
Unfortunately for himself and others, he didn't.  
  
Eric whistled to himself as he entered the large library where Artemis' computers were. Just in case, he had one of his own sequencing programs with him on a floppy. He would need that, since Artemis did not seem to be the type to use such an obvious password as the NSA supervisor. As soon as he sat down, however, he was faced with a problem. Artemis' computers were not configured to access floppy discs.  
This did not worry Eric. Years of experience (and a father who worked for various computer companies) had gotten him past worst. Eric pried open the floppy casing, after carefully sweeping the area for magnetic devices. He then took out a multi-tipped screwdriver and opened the face of one of the CPUs. Within minutes he had excavated the hard drive. This was removed. The magnetic reader was altered to read the floppy, and he carefully placed it in the holding tray. As soon as the drive began whirring, he turned on the monitor. As expected, the browser did not come up. Instead, the code from the program on the disc was displayed. He recorded the contents with one of Artemis' own web cameras, and input it into a different machine. It could then be accessed without the floppy.  
Faced with all of this work, the average adult would have given up and tried each combination by hand. Speed, however, was of the essence. As soon as he had finished, Eric removed the disc, hid the remains of the CPU, and left the room. There was no reason to risk being caught trying to do it all at once. That was for amateurs, and if there was one word that could describe all of Eric Champlain's habits, eccentricities, and intelligence, it certainly wasn't amateur.  
  
Artemis was, if at all possible, more unsettled now than he had been before. His father was at home again, and he had remarked that Artemis seemed to have changed in the past week or so. Artemis was certain that he had followed the same routine that he always had. The only possibility was if there were more hidden memories to be uncovered. It chilled him to think that the memories he had of life a few weeks ago might be false. He was determined to find the truth, no matter where it led him.  
  
It was two hours later. After suffering through what Artemis insisted was a steak marinated in Old Vine Zinfandel, but tasted like a burnt log doused with gasoline.  
"This chicken's kind of burnt, Artemis," Butler said.  
Artemis sighed. "It's steak, Butler."  
Butler cleared his throat. "Mpph. Ah. I see." Which was, of course, like all the other times he said it, a lie.  
After the meal had passed, Eric passed through the computer room under the pretense of looking up an old school friend. Artemis was not fooled; Eric had not been in school long enough to have 'old' friends. However, if he wanted to make a fool of himself, that was his own business.  
As soon as he was sure Artemis had gone upstairs, Eric locked himself in the room. Doubtless Artemis had seen through his flimsy cover story, but the point was to gain access to the room. Eric knew that the last thing Artemis would expect would be to have to fight his own security. The door was six inches of reinforced steel and surrounded by an ironclad doorframe. That unusual feature was what had caught Eric's eye. You don't install something like that on a whim, and only on one room in the house. Something had occurred in this room, and he was determined to find out what.  
Eric accessed his sequencer program and started it as soon as the program asked him for a password. His program would use every word in Webster's collegiate dictionary, all words of Celtic, Russian, Swedish, and Romanian origin, the entire script of every Star Trek movie, and all of the Lord of the Rings Books. If that did not work, it would switch to the more powerful but less refined random alphanumerical combination program. However, he did not need to go that far. The program found a hit on Legolas, the elf from the Lord of the Rings. He was surprised; Artemis had seemed like the type to memorize some twenty-character long random password. Well, all the easier for him. He cracked his knuckles and began working. 


	9. Foaly Reloaded

Chapter Nine  
  
A/N: Before I forget, I DO NOT own Woonsocket (Ugh, who'd want to?), it is a real city. I DO NOT own MSC (although it'd be cool to, and I'd lower the tuition price). Eric is my own creation, if you want to use him you must ask me. Oh and by the way, Eric Champlain is EC. Get it? EC, Eternity Code? * Looks at room of baffled people * Ahh, never mind.  
  
Eric was startled at the sheer volume of files in Artemis' mainframe. It would take days to read all of it. He required speed, or Artemis would catch him in the act. However, there were priorities. First of all, he needed to avoid or disable his security. Doubtless another time he would derive immense pleasure in doing so, but for now it was all business. No one did something without a price, leastaways the Fowls. Eric wanted something to pay that price with. And another thing, he was curious. What on earth could have compelled Artemis to reinforce that door so solidly?  
The blueprints for the house were under an additional layer of security. It was something Eric had never seen before. One program tracked Artemis' movements. Unless the program registered Artemis as being at the computer, he couldn't get in, even with the correct password. He pinched his lip. This would be one of his most challenging tasks yet.  
First, he accessed the video file program. Again, there were unusual modifications not keeping with traditional security systems. Artemis had placed some cameras purchased from ILM around the entrance to the manor. It seemed that every ten seconds the computer would take a freeze frame from each camera and compare it to a video image file. Eric licked his lips. This was certainly interesting. The video file no longer existed. Ergo, the program was useless, but Artemis was still running it. Artemis hated waste, he knew. So why use a redundant security system?  
The system was also hardened against loops. That was fine with Eric. He didn't want a loop, he wanted an artifact. As he suspected, the date/time stamp on all video footage was not protected. It was a simple matter to change some footage of Artemis at the computer to today.  
Now he could access the blueprints. He immediately noticed that the small cement 'storage room' he had noticed on his tour of the house was a recent addition. Apparently the Fowls had 'convinced' someone to stay awhile. This whole mess was getting more confusing instead of less.  
  
However, we have been neglecting our genius centaur, Foaly. He had just arrived at the local pound when we left him. Now, he was frantically racking his brains for a way to escape the Animal Control van. All it would take was one picture, and the secret of the People would be out. That was irony for you. Julius and him had always been on Holly about Artemis, and now he would be the one who blew the lid off of the entire mess.  
There was, however, a bright side. The animal catcher had left a bag of carrots just within reach. Mmm, yummy delicious carrots...but no, he was supposed to be escaping. The last time he checked, carrots were not on the LEP Standard Issue Lockpicking Gear List. Although, come to think of it, his multidriver was. Foaly's own little stroke of genius, the multidriver contained miniaturized Allen head, Phillips, flat-blade, and magnetic screwdrivers all in one. If he could reach it, in his shoulder bag, he could get out. Foaly sucked in his breath and slowly began to stretch his hand out through the bars...  
  
"I still haven't found anything to indicate where Foaly went, sir," Holly reported.  
"What? You've been up there for three hours, Short." Root bellowed. "I want answers, and I want them yesterday. Damn that centaur for not filling me in on his plan..."  
"Don't worry, sir," Holly said. "I may have a lead. An Animal Control van stopped here about the same time as Foaly. It could be worse, at least we have an idea where he might be," she added hurridly.  
It did no good. In a deadly whisper that was somehow worse than his bellowing, he said "Did you say...Animal Control? As in Mud Men experimenting on animals? Locking them in cages?"  
Holly gulped. She had a lot to deal with, and Root wasn't making it any easier. 


	10. Eternity Revisited

Chapter Ten  
  
Disclaimer: If you haven't figured it out by now, you're in trouble.  
  
A/N: Not to ofend ny singel persin, butt howe com no on can speel anymorre? Jeze! Its not taht haard!  
  
Fowl Manor  
  
Artemis had gravely miscalculated. He had assumed that Eric would not be able to breach his security, but the American had done things with a computer that he had never seen before. Now he needed a way into the room. He would have to beat his own security to get in. Not that there were any complicated sensors or tripwires. There was no need. All the room needed was the solid steel door. Artemis seemed to have outmaneuvered himself. There was no way past the door.  
Artemis felt a cool breeze waft over his face. Ordinarily, it would have held no interest to him, but today was not an ordinary day. His heart quickened. If that breeze was coming from what he thought it was...  
Artemis smiled. He had his way in.  
  
Eric was starting to become tense. Fifteen minutes had passed since he began. Eric had several very important rules when it came to hacking. One of them was called the Golden Ten Rule. This rule stated that any hacker under any circumstances should expect only ten minutes to be able to complete his task before being spotted by security and locked out of the system. Eric had already surpassed that. Granted, it was only by five minutes, but that was eternity compared to the time it took for computers to complete tasks.  
He frowned. That word rung a bell. He backtracked into the database. It was as he expected. A file called 'Eternity' was among one of the recently published documents. He opened it, and was astonished. Artemis had created an Eternity Code. He had invented an entirely new language. This was a remarkable achievement. The fact that Artemis had not shouted it from the rooftops meant that he meant to exploit this code. Eric ran a search on all related documents. He came up with one in particular, named 'Cube.' Trembling with anticipation, he opened it.  
Eric frowned. The file was completely blank. Wiped. Perhaps Artemis had a hard copy somewhere, but that wouldn't help him now. Another five minutes had passed. He was at double the time he normally allotted himself. He saved everything he had discovered so far to a disc, and printed it all. The printer began to whirr, and Eric quickly searched for any last bit of information that could make or break his future as a free man. He wondered where on earth Artemis was, and why he hadn't been removed from the room yet.  
  
Artemis was, at the moment, exactly above Eric's head. Intelligent though he was, he had neglected to check for air vents that might provide access to the room. This particular vent opened right below the desk. That left only a ten-foot vertical shaft to traverse. Butler could have dropped that distance without a sound, but Artemis could not. Fortunately, at that moment the printer turned on. The whirring covered the sound of Artemis' shoes hitting the bottom of the shaft. He could see light filtering into the shaft, and the soles of Eric's Vans. He popped open the grate, crawled out, and stood up.  
  
Eric was completely flabbergasted by Artemis' sudden appearance. In all fairness, he recovered rather quickly.  
"So," he said. "It seems that the great Artemis Fowl's security is not infallible."  
"Apparently, you've had a lot of experience," Artemis said. "You're certainly very skilled. This was intended to be a test."  
"For me, or the system?" Eric asked levelly.  
"Both, actually," Artemis admitted. "But you got much farther than I expected. After seeing you in action, I'm prepared to offer you a job."  
"I only do on-site work," Eric said, but his eyes were smiling.  
"Then we've got a deal. The details can wait for later," Artemis said. "Right now, we've got another trip to take."  
Eric was surprised. He hadn't figured Artemis to be a jet setter, constantly traversing the globe. "Oh, really? Where to now?"  
Artemis smiled, the sight of the perfectly white teeth unsettling. "Switzerland." 


	11. The Great Escape

Chapter Eleven  
  
Disclaimer: If you still can't figure it out, just wait for the men in white coats to come...  
  
Foaly stretched his hand through the bars of the cage. Just a bit farther, and he could escape. Keep thinking positive, he told himself. Don't think about the pain ripping through your muscles, or the chewing out Root is going to give you, or all the horrible experiments that will be done on you if you fail. Don't think about any of that...too late.  
Finally, he grasped the handle of his carrying bag. He scrabbled around insider of it. There was his guide on how to disassemble a nuclear battery, Fairy Computers for Dummies, a half-eaten carrot, a set of electrodes, and—  
No multidriver. Foaly was extremely disheartened, to say the least. What followed this heartbreaking discovery was a chapter's worth of unprintable words.  
After letting off some steam, he looked around the room. Somewhere in it there must be something to get him out. It was just a matter of finding it. But no lockpicking materials seemed to be at hand.  
Then he spotted it. A coat hanger, and just within reach. By stretching a little further...and a bit more...  
Foaly gasped as he felt his shoulder pop out of his socket with a wet crunch. But he was able to snag the hanger, and with a little adjusting, he was able to pick the lock. Now, of course, he had to escape the building, and be completely unobserved. It appeared that there were cameras placed just outside of the holding room. If he had had a little more time, he could wipe his pattern from their memory, but that was not an option now. He picked up his shoulder bag and strode over to the door. He couldn't be sure without an iris cam, but it appeared that all of the cameras were pointed at the cages lining the hall, not at the door. If he pressed up against the wall, he could make it.  
Cradling his injured shoulder, he trotted over to the other side of the hall. That had been easy enough. Now, though, he must get through the main holding area. If there was a way to keep the animals from making any noise...but Foaly saw that that would be impossible. In fact, silence would betray him even faster than noise. Then he had an inspiration. He smiled to himself. If Fowl were here, even he couldn't have done any better.  
  
The security guards for the sector that Foaly occupied were none other than Pex and Chips. The two had lost their jobs with Jon Spiro, and were only out of prison because the description 'elephantine' hadn't been enough for the cops to go on.  
"Hey," Pex said. "A dog." This dog was a pit bull, rescued from an illegal dogfighting arena, but Pex didn't know that. Pex probably couldn't even spell dogfighting. It had three syllables, for crying out loud.  
Chips was busy munching on a bag of chips. "Aren't the dogs supposed to be in their cages?" he asked. All in all, it was a major achievement for him. It was his longest sentence in four weeks.  
"I dunno," Pex said. That was his second favorite thing to say. His first was "Pass the remote, Chips." "Maybe we should stop it."  
"Okay," Chips replied. Neither of them remembered the training lesson that their job instructor had given them on the first day. If they had, the following events would have unfolded very differently. Their trainer, an ex- SAS trooper, had one thing that he said to every class. "Don't you never get in a pit bull's way," he said, "or in about three seconds you'll be making your explanations to Saint Peter."  
  
Foaly peeked his head around the corner. It had worked. The dumb oafs in the security office had left it unguarded while they chased the dog. Now he was free to manipulate the cameras as he chose. Wiping his pattern would take too much time, of course. Foaly had never heard of Eric's Golden Rule, but he certainly would have agreed with it if he had. Instead, he disconnected a service panel and pulled a strategic wire. Instantly, the cameras stopped. The entire sector was blind. He grinned. If only Mud Men knew how pathetic their security was. That was just before he felt a cold steel something in the back of his neck. You didn't need to have a genius IQ to figure that one out.  
  
Chips gingerly approached the pit bull. "Hey, boy," he said. "What are you doing out of your cage? You get back in there right now!"  
The dog snarled. This human might be large, but he didn't like his tone of voice. Bigger men than Chips had fallen victim to this dog's attacks—though, to be fair, there weren't many people larger than Chips, except perhaps Butler.  
"Easy, boy," he said. "I'm just gonna put this leash on you, and you'll go..." Then Chips noticed something. Pex was gone. He turned to see where he had gone. "Pex?" That was his mistake. The dog lunged.  
  
"All right," Pex said to Foaly. "We can do this the easy way, or we can—"He struggled to remember the rest of the line. Concentrating hard, he finally remembered. "Or, we can do it the easy way!" he said, grinning broadly. This was almost as fun as his old job.  
"What about—"Foaly began, then remembered that he hasn't supposed to be able to talk. "Um, neigh. Neigh, whinny."  
"Don't move, horsy-boy," Pex said. "Guns can be dangerous. But I know how to use 'em." Pex then proceeded to march Foaly over towards the door. Out of the corner of his eye, Foaly could see confiscated fairy technology sitting on a stainless steel counter. His field mind-wiper, multidriver—and personal Neutrino XE. The latest model, it employed revolutionary new technologies to incapacitate. The gun emitted two types of energy—a neural decohesion beam, which disrupted the cellular processes throughout the body. Now you didn't need a pinpoint shot, because the beam spread throughout the entire body of the perp. Much more effective. The other setting was the conventional 'burn' setting. The dual-system weapon had actually been appropriated from a human TV show Foaly watched. Star Trek, or something like that. He was actually a bit miffed that the humans had though of something like this in the sixties and he hadn't.  
Foaly made his decision. He bolted for the table. Three shots rang out. They all found their mark. 


	12. The Bank Job

Chapter Twelve  
  
Switzerland  
  
Once again, our heroes were jetting off to a new locale. Butler, who had visited Switzerland before for reasons still secret, had decided to come along. So had Juliet. Artemis hardly put up more than a token objection. After all, they were Butlers. There was no changing their minds.  
"So why exactly are we going to Switzerland?" Eric asked. This time he had made a point of asking Juliet for a sandwich instead of Artemis. Far better looking and much more edible. (The sandwich, not Juliet.)  
"Well," Artemis said, "I mentioned that Butler had conducted an audit of the estate recently. One item caught my mind: a safe-deposit box in a Swiss bank. I called, and they verified that the account existed." He smiled his vampire smile. He really must think of patenting it. "So now, we're going to see what's so important that it needed to be locked away in another country."  
  
After arriving at the bank, though, they immediately hit a roadblock. "Artemis," Juliet said, twisting her hair in the fashion that she had. "You do have the key to this safe deposit box, don't you?"  
Artemis' face fell quickly. Only for a moment, however; he recovered quickly. For all of his planning he had slipped up on this one innocuous detail. He patted Eric on the shoulder. "Right here," he replied. "Here's our key."  
Butler was not as easily reassured, however. He took Artemis aside as they entered the lobby of the bank.  
"Artemis, the Swiss have the best security in the world. How is this child going to beat it?"  
Artemis tried to appear unconcerned. "I am a child as well, Butler. And I have beaten far better security than this." He grinned a normal smile, which was somehow even more disturbing than his vampire one. "Trust me."  
  
While Butler and Artemis were having their conference, Eric was scanning the building for weaknesses—and in the process, noticing Butler's younger and attractive sister. He decided a little innocent small talk shouldn't be a problem.  
"So, Juliet," he asked. "How long have you been with the Fowls now?"  
Juliet looked incredibly bored with the circumstances that had placed her here, talking to a foreign boy at least two years younger than her. But seeing as putting him in a headlock to shut him up would somewhat draw attention in this bank, she decided to answer him.  
"About fifteen or so years now. Ever since Artemis was born. Why?"  
"Just curious," he shrugged. "If even half the stuff I hear about Artemis is true, it must certainly be an exciting job."  
"Exciting's not the word I would use," she replied idly. Her mind was quite obviously elsewhere. "Why just last year, we—" She stopped abruptly, and a perplexed look crept across her face. "I can't remember. It's right on the tip of my tongue."  
Well, well, well, Eric mused. The entire Fowl group had been subjected to some sort of brainwashing. Based on what he had gathered, however, the process was too selective. It left gaps, gaps that could be exploited—which was exactly what Eric intended.  
  
Arnaud Chamberlain, the manager of the bank, was not in a good mood that day. His coffee had been inexcusably cold—four degrees below room temperature. His lunch was barely passable, too. The caviar was almost three days old—unacceptable. And now, he, the manager, was expected to cater to some pampered foreigner. The whole situation was intolerable. He stormed past his wispy secretary out to the lobby. Whoever was out there had better have a damn good excuse.  
  
Butler was the first to notice the large man moving towards them. His bulk was almost enough to rival Butler's—but where Butler was solid, highly toned muscle, Chamberlain was fat and flab.  
Artemis stepped forward. "I wish to see the contents of my safe," he said in fluent, unaccented Swiss.  
Chamberlain was perspiring, and his breathing was heavy from storming to the front desk, but he could tell that this young boy was a customer. He resisted the urge to salute. "Of course, sir. Right away." He paused. "What is the name  
"Fowl," Artemis answered. "Artemis Fowl the Second."  
Chamberlain's eyes gleamed. "Ah, Master Fowl! Now I recall you." He looked distastefully at Eric, still in his polo shirt and khakis, and Juliet, wearing a tee shirt and low rise jeans. "You were, uh, not accompanied last time." He turned to the entrance to the vaults. "If you would follow me, please?"  
  
They reached an ornate sitting room, with two plush armchairs and a couch in front of a roaring fireplace. A silver-chrome drink bar stood off to the right, next to a notebook PC and, oddly, a machine that looked like an ATM.  
After Arnaud left, Artemis turned to Eric. "All right, Eric. I've gotten us in. Now how does this system work, and how do we beat it?"  
"All right," Eric said. "See the thing that looks like an ATM? It's a machine that will retrieve the box from the vault when you enter the correct password. Unfortunately, it only allows three tries. So we need to be positive on the password before we enter it."  
"I can't remember what I would have used," Artemis said. "After all, it was two years ago, and I don't even remember doing this in the first place."  
"Okay," Eric said. "Sit down. I'm going to ask you a series of questions. Relax, try put yourself in the mindset you would have been in when you did this. Ideally, I would have someone hypnotize you, but we don't have that kind of time. Just say whatever comes to mind."  
Butler and Juliet watched intently as Eric began the interrogation. Even the widely traveled Butler had never seen anything like this before.  
"Name?"  
"Artemis Fowl the Second."  
"Place?"  
"Fowl Manor."  
"Room?"  
"Library."  
"Enemy?"  
"Er...Spiro. That's all I know is that name."  
Eric made a note on a piece of paper. "That's good. Friend?"  
"Domovoi."  
The last word triggered a start from Butler. "How did you hear that?" he asked.  
"I don't know," Artemis said. "At least, not anymore."  
"People?"  
"Fairies," he blurted out. He blinked. "It's on the tip of my tongue. It is incredibly frustrating as well."  
"I'm going to focus on that topic then," Eric said. "Maybe it means something to you. Magic?"  
"Shielding."  
"Powers?"  
"Mesmer."  
"Elf?"  
"Short."  
"Leprechaun?"  
"LEPRetrevial."  
"Goal?"  
"Gold. One metric ton, unmarked ingots."  
"Now I'll try some questions. Stay relaxed, and don't think about it too hard. What is the gold for?"  
"It's from...the hostage fund."  
"Who is the fund for?"  
"Fairies...in the LEP."  
"What else do they call them?"  
"Fairies, sprites, leprechauns, the People."  
"Hmm...what rules do they live by?"  
Artemis' eyes popped open. "The Book," he said. "Don't ask me what's in it, because I still can't remember. But that is what is in this vault."  
Eric rubbed his hands together. "Well, you've cetainly given fantasy authors everywhere a run for their money. I've never seen someone react to this many magic-based keywords. Honestly, you could WRITE a book with this material.  
"How does that system work?" Butler asked.  
"Well, you start out using very general words or questions. Whatever frame of mind the subject is in will provide the answers unconsciously. Like I said, ideally you would have been hypnotized." He spread his hands in confusion. "What's really intriguing is the layer and selectiveness of whatever brainwashing you've been under. This type of false memory replacement usually takes years of drugs and conditioning. But like I mentioned before, they were too selective. Your subconscious mind still remembers, even if your conscious mind doesn't."  
Artemis took this all in silently. Butler took this rare oppertunity to interject a comment.  
"Have me and Juliet been applied to the same amount of conditioning as well?" he asked.  
"Offhand, I would say less," Eric said, "you, know, because you follow Artemis' orders most of the time. But like I said, it's flawed." He looked at the drink cooler. "Anyone besides me thirsty?"  
"I'll just have some spring water," Artemis said. "No ice." Eric grabbed the water and a can of Coca-Cola.  
"Great to know this has such a wide consumer base," he said. "When we get back, I'm buying stock in that company." He turned the can to show Japanese characters on the back. "Wonder what this means?"  
"It means, don't buy that stock," Juliet said.  
  
A/N: Whoever can tell me where that line came from...uh...gets mentioned in this story! Yeah, that's good!  
  
A/N2: Hint: It's a Michael Crighton book.  
  
Suddenly, Artemis' cell phone rang. He answered it and heard...  
  
A/N3: I'm not updating until I get 20 reviews!  
  
insert evil laugh here 


	13. Reunion Time

Chapter Thirteen  
  
**Somewhere in Ireland**  
  
While Artemis was flying off to the land of Switzerland, home of hot chocolate and big banks, Captain Holly Short was facing her own problems. "D'Arvit!" she said for the tenth time. "Where the hell did Foaly get to?" She was flying in a large circle over his last location. If he had worn a locator, they could have tracked him back to wherever the Animal Control van had taken him. Unfortunately, Foaly had become even more paranoid after the Eternity Cube encounter, and was convinced that wearing a locator would allow a hidden cabal of traitors inside the LEP to find him. He was always tracking down conspiracy theories now.  
"I hate to say it," Root said over the communications link from the Ops booth, "but that horse might have been onto something with his latest theory."  
"If he had agreed to wear a locator," Holly snarled, "we'd have him by now."  
"Oh, don't worry, Captain," Root said in a low voice. "When you get him back here, I'm going to shove a locator up his furry little—"  
"Open channel, Commander," she said hurriedly, although there was no doubt about what he meant to say. She kept flying in a widening spiral. "I'm looking at another two hours or so of fuel, less if I want to get back on these," she said. "I'm going to backtrack, see where he went and what he was looking for. If I know Foaly, he'll escape and get right back on task."  
"Well, he logged a request to scan the Mud Man archives shortly before he left," Root replied. "That's strange, he was looking at music. He compared it to something...damn! I hate all these buttons!" She heard crashing noises and a long string of swear words that would make a sprite blush. "He was comparing it to that piece I conducted a couple days ago. That's really strange. Now what was he—D'Arvit! Holly, what's it mean when the computer says 'Page cannot be found, 404 Error?'"  
"Press the green circle," she said. "That should reload it."  
"'Page not found, 404—' Hey! This is a Mud Man Internet page! This is _pathetic!_ I CAN'T BELIEVE WE RELY ON THIS CRAP!"  
"Calm down, Commander," she suggested. "What's it say under the 404 part?"  
"Server cannot connect. He's trying to reach a page called www dot music dot com slash Rackham slash sheetmusic dot html. Does that mean anything to you? Can you understand it?"  
"Perfectly," she lied. "I'll have to find a public terminal to connect to it. It won't be a minute."  
  
Twenty-nine minutes and thirty seconds later, Holly was ready to admit defeat. "The only terminals I can see are inside of dwellings," she reported. "And we're running out of time. You know what we have to do."  
"No," he stated.  
"I can't see any way around it. We need—"  
"DON'T SAY IT!" he roared. "I WILL NOT GO CRAWLING BACK—"  
"He's an expert," she argued, but he kept ranting, unhearing.  
"–TO THAT SON OF A STINK WORM—"  
"He's already lost his magic," she argued.  
"FOR THE **FOURTH TIME! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"**  
Holly waited patiently for him to calm down—as much as possible for Root to be calm, anyway. "Are you done?"  
He sighed, a rush of air over the link. "That's insubordination, Short," he said, but it was without feeling. "And now you've got a carefully though out argument that'll knock down all of my objections, right." It wasn't a question.  
"Three words, Commander. We need him," she said simply.  
"All right," he said. "Go get him."  
  
Mulch Diggums was a happy dwarf. His toes had hardly stopped wiggling since the judge said "Innocent." He did what Artemis said, and had been playing it safe. After all, it would be very embarrassing to be arrested barely a week after he had been cleared of all charges. He found himself a little hole in the ground, bought some gray-market Mud Man DVD's, and waited.  
It was had, though. The valuables just waiting to be relieved of their owners by him cried out to him. But dwarfs are very stubborn, and despite his thievery, Mulch was an honest dwarf. Perhaps saving Artemis' life had brought that out in him.  
But now, as his security system alerted him of the LEP officer barging up his walk, he was seriously worried. Maybe the Mud Man hadn't done as good of a job on the warrant as he thought. He considered escaping. No, that would make it look like there was something to hide. It was probably another cop trying to crack down on the DVD imports. He sniggered. A losing battle, that. Even Root had some human movies, as well as Foaly. If the officer tried to rattle his chain, he'd just inform them of that fact. He felt his confidence returning.  
"Whaddaya want?" he asked the officer as he opened the door. "If it's about the DVD's, I got nothing to say. They're legal, or close enough." He peered at the badge. Hey, wait a minute, you're—you can't be—not—"  
"Hello, Mulch," Holly Short said, as she flipped up her visor.  
"Crap," he said. "And the day was going so well. I'm going out on a limb, but am I right to assume that this isn't old home week?"  
"You always were the intelligent one, Mulch," she said dryly. "Get some wings. I know you've got a pair in there somewhere."  
He adopted an innocent expression, but it called Social Services and was taken away, so he settled for his usual grimace. "Why, you should know I've gone straight, Officer," he said. "Didn't that Kelp kid there tell you I had none after he searched my home? For the seventy-eighth time?"  
"Fine, then," she said, smiling like a big cat about to pounce. "You can ride shotgun. Hold on tight, my grip's a little weak."  
"Wait," he said, quivering. "Now that you mention it..."  
"Can the theatrics and get going," she said. "You're going to help the LEP in a little job."  
He scrambled into the house to grab a pair of shining new Foaly Factor wings.  
"How did you get these?" an astonished Captain Short asked him.  
"If you really must know, your pompous centaur friend asked me to field test them a week ago. Something about obesity-proofing them," he grumbled.  
She laughed. "Sounds like you and Root have something in common."  
"Yeah, we both own DVD's," he said. "Now can we get on with it?"  
  
A shot time later (no pun intended), they were aloft over Ireland. "Now," Mulch said, "is there a specific house you want, or will any one do?"  
Holly was shocked again. "How did you know?"  
He shrugged. "I'm not an idiot. This is the same thing you wanted in the whole Fowl incident. You need something in a dwelling. I go in because I have no magic to lose. Two and two makes three."  
"Actually, it makes four," she informed him.  
"Ah, so that's why those tax people wanted to speak to me..."  
  
Another bit later, The two were on the ground, Mulch in camo-foil. "Hurry up, Diggums," Short snapped. "Foaly's time is running out." Dirt flew into the air from the garden that Mulch had deemed an acceptable entry point. She stood back. She didn't want to make the same mistake Butler had in watching a dwarf dig. She wondered where Butler was now.  
  
Mulch looked around at the well decorated home. He had emerged in a basement closet. No burglar alarms that he could see. Typical Mud Man mentality, not expecting a belowground attack. He stolidly walked past the cabinet with the Lord of the Rings movies in it. He was here for an entirely different purpose. Holly had filled him in as they flew.  
He made his way to the small home office. Ah, there was a top of the line computer there! The HP Pavilion, with a wireless printer, scanner, and modem. He quickly accessed the Internet browser and punched in the address that Holly had given him. Hmm. Sheet music, and lots of it. He quickly transferred it to a floppy, hoping the owner didn't notice that it was missing.  
The clicking of a key in a lock alerted him. The owner was coming! He quickly hid the disk under the closest object—a bowl of cat food. He saw the foyer door open, then close. No one walked in. His pulse quickened. It must be a fairy. "Holly?" he called out tentatively.  
The first thing he saw when the fairy unshielded was the Chain Lightning blaster leveled at his head. It was powerful, even better than the old tribarreled Neutrinos. Survivors said that it was like getting hit by a bolt of lightning—not that there were ever many survivors from a shot like that. And now, the business end of the gun was pointing at him.  
One can imagine what the goals were for the designer of the Lightning. "Make it mean," they said. "Make sure everyone knows that there is a right end, and a wrong end, and that they are at the wrong end. Make sure everyone knows exactly what it was for."  
Mulch's eyes traveled past the deadly piece of technology to the fairy aiming it, but he wasn't prepared for what he saw. "You!" he cried.  
"Me," they replied. Then a searing bolt of pain ripped across Mulch's frame, and all he could think of was one thing: it couldn't be them. It couldn't be them. It couldn't...


End file.
